Scars Heal
by ACKane
Summary: Written to distract my niece when she wasn't feeling well. Once upon a time, a "package" Eliot retrieved was a woman; she touched his soul and set up camp there, even though he tried to bury his feelings. Now, she's in Boston.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing; am just a fan.

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It's not like moving's that big of a deal. She'd done it a bunch of times. It's just…this time it felt weird. Not at all like the others. This time, she moved to a city where no one knew her. No one knew of her scars…the ones that still marred her body. The ones on her soul had been remedied a long time ago…

Boston was colder than she expected. Her system was still used to the warmth of California, but within time she'd adjust. It was just the first couple of weeks, she told herself. Until then, warm sweaters, scarves, gloves, and the cute red wool jacket were her fashion staple.

Her new digs were cute, and the boxes had been unpacked, flattened, and put away. She was slowly beginning to move with confidence through her new neighborhood, and she was beginning to recognize faces in the businesses. A few of them even seemed to be friendly.

"Good morning, Allyson. The usual?" It was nice that the barista at least knew her name. Made her feel a bit as if she wasn't all alone in the world.

"Please. Thanks." She moved to the window seat, also her usual, and pulled out her laptop. Her editor had made it clear that she needed to finish the book…SOON. The crush of "things to do" at home kept her from writing; this coffee shop had become a haven. Thank God it had good coffee, too, not just a quiet place to work.

Two non-fat lattes, a scone, two chapters, one deleted one, and a whole bunch of frustration later, Allyson packed up her computer. There wasn't much more she could do today; her brain was mush. She needed time to think through where to take this next phase of the story, and sitting around in a coffee shop was never the best way for her to do that. She pulled on her blue and gray striped gloves, slipped on her red coat, slung her computer bag over her shoulder, and waved goodbye to the young girls behind the counter.

"Bye, Allyson!!!" they chorused. She smiled, remembering her own days as a barista in college. Those were simple, easy days. Days when memories were sweet…she shook her head, and sucked in a breath as the cold air hit her senses.

"Really? I had to move here?!" she muttered to herself. It made perfect sense; her publishing company was here, meetings would be easier to accommodate as she was in the city, she had been ready for a change…but, man! It was cold! She huddled in her jacket and began envisioning warm, sandy beaches. Palm trees. A hammock. NOPE. Wasn't working. Her teeth began to chatter, and she picked up the pace to make it back to her apartment.

She was just a few blocks from home when she felt it. Almost like a zing of electricity shooting up her back. She stopped still, trying to figure out what had just happened. It was like an extra-sensory shot of memory had hit her; her heart began to beat faster, and sweat beaded on her palms.

Spinning slowly, she stared at every face around her. No one. No reason for this…weird feeling. No reason to imagine that she was being watched. The storefronts looked the same as they always did - filled with Christmas decorations, people walked obliviously by, and cars whizzed past her. Yet, the feeling remained. She spun once more, doing her best to see into every crevice, every dark place, around every corner. There was no one.

Sighing, she started up again, "Too much writing, too much coffee, too much aloneness, and not enough sleep," she muttered. Still, she vowed to make sure to double check the deadbolt when she got home. 

Upstairs, looking out the window, a man stared down at the figure walking away. He couldn't breathe; he had never expected to see that woman again. He had known her only for a few fleeting, intense hours; yet she had set up camp in his soul. He greedily memorized her every detail, from the wavy blonde hair, to the way she walked…which had not changed in the three years since he had known her. She still looked as if she was dancing as she walked, as though her body was moving to some unknown music. 

"Eliot, man! The game's on!" Hardison's voice interrupted his thoughts. 

"What? Oh, yeah…be there in a second." He raised the beer bottle to his lips and took a sip. What was she doing here? She promised she would never look for him; he had demanded that from her. His life was too dangerous for her, and he had to do everything he could to keep her safe. No matter how much it ripped his heart out to not be near her, her wellbeing was more important. He remembered how she had looked when he had first seen her, and he vowed that she would never, ever go through anything remotely close to that again…not on his watch…and sure as hell not because of him. 

But, she was here. In Boston. What the hell? "Ally, baby…what's going on?" he whispered. She rounded the corner and disappeared from sight. "Oh, boy…" he groaned. This was going to be tough. She was in his city; obviously she lived here. For her safety, he could only hope that her appearance in his neighborhood was a fluke, and he could keep his presence a secret. Yet, he couldn't help staring a few more seconds at the corner around which she had disappeared. Despite the danger, despite the horrific time they spent together, despite the pain…she was here. He had seen her. It was only for a few seconds, but it was enough. It had to be enough. 

"Eliot! Game!!" Hardison yelled it this time. "What's with you, man?" 

"Nothing," he replied, turning from the window and walking to the couch. "Nothing," whispering to himself, "absolutely nothing."


	2. Chapter 2

Digging through her chest of drawers, Allyson finally found the running clothes she'd been looking for. She sighed in frustration; finding things after a move was always hard. This time seemed worse. Padding to the bathroom, she glanced over at her dog, Clyde. 

"Yep, we'll go. Just let me change." She smiled; the yellow lab was already at the door, leash in his mouth. He wagged his tail in response; he knew, almost more than she did, how much she needed these daily runs. 

In the bathroom, Allyson pulled her shirt over her head and then rubbed a small scar on her wrist. It had faded over time, but it was still there; a reminder. She shook her head and touched the St. Nicholas medallion around her neck. She always wore it, again, as a reminder. Smiling into the mirror, she cast those gloomy thoughts out of her mind, and then she opened the door. 

"Okay, Clyde…let's run!" Her dog's yip of joy and wriggle of excitement made her giggle. She clipped on his leash and headed out into the cold to pound the pavement. 

Running had never been her exercise of choice. She had hated it until three years ago. Still hated it at times, like now when it was so cold that she thought her lungs had ice in them, but it provided her moments of peace. She could think out here in the cold. The icy air took all her tensions, expelled in each breath, and only gave her back quiet. She didn't run with an ipod; music tended to distract her, and it was during these runs that she worked through the intricacies of her stories. 

She had just rounded the corner to head back home when she saw him. His hair was longer, and his back was to her, but there was no mistaking the stance. She'd know it anywhere. It was the stance of a man who had seen too many horrors in life. Who had faced them head on, had fought his way out of them, yet they still touched his soul. Even at rest or play, he was ready. He could be laughing one second and knee-deep into a fight for his life the next. 

As it was, he was in a bar with some people. They appeared to be his friends, and although he was standing at readiness, the brunette lady had obviously said something that made him laugh. His head was back, and his shoulders shook with his laughter. Allyson stared at him though the window, Clyde pressed against her legs, all her brilliant thoughts for her book forgotten. The man in the bar had walked away from her three years ago, although he often haunted her dreams. He was the turning point in her life; he was the reason she walked away from everything she had to follow her passion. He was her true hero, and the person on whom most of her heroic characters were based. 

Clyde whimpered and licked her hand. "I know, baby," she whispered, reaching down to stroke between his ears. "Just give me a few more seconds." Allyson knew that at any moment she would be noticed, either by the people he was with, or by him, himself. It was just that she hadn't seen him in three years; she had made a promise, and she had kept it. But, still…he was single handedly the most important man in her history, and she just needed a few more glimpses of him. To assure herself that he was alright, that he was real and not just some figment of her imagination…or a ghost in her memory. 

As if in answer to her own prophecy, the older man he was with looked up and caught her eye. Busted. Allyson smiled shyly, turned, and began running again. 

"Eliot? What are you doing here?" She asked out loud, half hoping the wind would have the answer. 


	3. Chapter 3

"Eliot, do you know a blonde woman? About your age, wavy hair? Has a yellow lab?" Nate asked quietly.

Eliot took his time swallowing his drink. "It's possible," he hedged, "depends on the lady. Why?" He knew. Oh, he knew, but wasn't about to admit it. Not…yet. Not unless he had to.

"You were just being stared at by one, that's all," Nate answered.

"Oh, it's just because he's so damn sexy," Parker answered for Eliot. She reached over and punched his arm. "Haven't you noticed how every woman stares at him? Where is she?"

"Parker," Eliot growled, his irritation beginning to show. "Knock it off…"

Parker just grinned at him.

"No, man, it's true. They all think you're all that," Hardison chimed in. "Seriously, Nate, where is she?" He swiveled around on his barstool, checking out the room.

"She was outside, jogging. Just ran off," Nate replied, watching Eliot. Eliot, for his part, tried to not let his relief and concern show. Relief that she was gone and he didn't have to try to explain her to the others; concern that her appearance wasn't a fluke. She did live close by. And, it seems, she had spotted him.

For the rest of the night, he was quiet. Brooding, almost. Oh, he answered their questions when asked, even cracked a joke or two, but for the most part he was locked in his own head, trying to figure out what to do. This team, HIS team, was his life now. He'd kill or die for any of them, almost had, too. The whole pulling cons on the con was addicting; he'd found he liked being the "good guy." Almost good guy. There was still a whole bunch of independent bad ass in him, but he liked being on the right side for once.

She had called him that. That night, so long ago, she had looked right into his soul and declared him a "good man." "You're a good man, Eliot Spencer," she had said, right before she kissed him goodbye. He didn't believe it then, but he was beginning to now…but if his being here put her at risk, he couldn't live with that. As much as he…loved…his team, she was, and always would be more important.

All night, he could feel Nate watching him. He'd have to own up to Nate; there was no keeping secrets from the man, but he needed more information first. 

As they packed up to leave, Eliot pulled Hardison away. "I need a favor." 

"Dude, sure," Hardison looked at Eliot. "What?" 

"It's off the record, man. Just you and me, okay?" 

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I feel ya. No worries. What do you need?" Hardison was beginning to worry. Eliot never asked him for this kind of help. Ever. Usually, it was the other way around; Hardison asking Eliot for help…out of a jam…with women…fixing his car. Eliot was the self-sufficient one. This was new, and whatever the favor was, it was costing Eliot a lot to ask it. 

"I need to know everything you can find out about this person," Eliot handed him a slip of paper. "As soon as possible, okay?"

"Yeah, I'll give it to you tomorrow." Hardison read the name. Allyson Cole.


	4. Chapter 4

Allyson twirled the St. Nicholas medallion around and around, staring at it reflecting the candlelight. Her glass of wine was untouched as she stared at the medallion, remembering. He had given it to her. The patron saint of thieves. He had claimed he didn't need it, since he wasn't so much a thief as a "retrieval specialist". She didn't know if there really was a difference, and she wasn't Catholic, but she wore the medallion every day, anyway. Because he had given it to her. Just for that reason. 

She closed her eyes and rested her head against the arm of the couch. Remembering.

_ There wasn't much that she remembered about the actual attack. She had been with Hugh, her fiancé, at their favorite breakfast place. Afterward, while he paid the check, she had gone outside to wait in the sunshine. It had been cold and rainy all week; the sun felt good. There was a loud noise…a scream…blinding pain…and then, nothing. _

_ The nothingness faded every now and then, and she had snapshots. A car trunk. The worst migraine of her life. Rough hands hauling her out of the car. A fist. Stairs. A naked light bulb hanging from a cord. Boots connecting with her ribs. _

_ Pain, nothingness, random snapshots. She didn't know how long it lasted, but it felt like an eternity. Loud, crass voices swearing at her. Blinding pain as they pressed red hot pokers into her flesh. Nothingness. More fists and boots. Her lips were swollen, cracked; she could barely open one eye. Her wrist seared where they had burned her. Her shoulder blade, too, as they had branded her there as well. She faded back into oblivion, trying to garner the strength for their inevitable return._

_ She didn't even have the strength to wonder why her. It was just a vicious cycle of sweet oblivion, intense pain, fear, darkness, then back to oblivion. They never spoke to her, never told her why she had been taken. Never asked her for information, or about loved ones from whom to demand ransom. _

_ It was cold. She was shivering, huddled up in the fetal position, trying to keep warm, trying to protect herself from their return. She was drenched, too, whether from the rain which had returned, or from her own blood, she didn't know. Just...cold and wet. On a concrete floor, bare light bulb overhead. Big, metal door, not that she had the strength to try to open it. The wind and rain rushed in through the window; the glass had broken a long time ago, but the bars were still fully functional._

_ Suddenly, she heard screaming come from the other side of the door. It sounded as though a nasty, wild animal was ripping the people outside apart. There was a loud thud, then...silence._

_ "I should be scared," she thought. "I really should, shouldn't I?" For some reason, in her delirious state, the thought that she SHOULD be scared but didn't have the strength to be was funny. Not that she had the strength to laugh, or even crack a smile, but it still registered as funny in her brain. The good part of this was if her captors were dead, then they couldn't hurt her anymore. _

_ The bolt on the door slid over, and the door creaked open. Boots ran across the room toward her, and suddenly she realized that this person had defeated her captors. He was more dangerous than they were, and that fear that should have shown up a few minutes previous made its belated but dramatic entrance._

_ She shrunk back as far as she could from the oncoming person, "Don't! Please, please don't," she cried. She huddled together as tightly as she could, pulling her knees into her chest, even though pain scorched through her at the action. "Don't hurt me, please," she whimpered._

_ He squatted down beside her; she could see the blue jeans stretched across his knees. Gentle hands touched her shoulder, brushed the hair out of her face. "Allyson, Sweetheart, it's okay. You're safe. I'm not going to hurt you, I promise." His voice was gentle, kind. Deep, with a hint of a southern drawl. He kept repeating those words over and over. "I'm not going to hurt you; no one is going to again. I promise. You're safe. You're safe...you're safe."_

_ She finally believed him, and lifted her head up to look at him in the face. A scar on his upper lip, bruises starting to appear on his left cheek, and blue eyes. Eyes that conveyed the truth of his statement. She was safe._

_ He smiled gently, then moved his arms under her. "This is going to hurt; there's no getting around it. I'm sorry, really, but it's the only way to get you out of here. Take a deep breath for me, will you, Sweetheart?" She sucked in as much air as her broken ribs would allow, and in one swift movement, he stood up, with Allyson in his arms. He was right. It hurt. More than she could've imagined, and she groaned as her head settled against his shoulder. "Breathe, as well as you can. Deep breaths, even though they hurt. We'll be done with this hard part really soon, I promise," he whispered to her. The room spun a bit as he turned to leave._

_ "Wait," she whispered. She angled her head back and lifted a hand to his face._

_ "What is it?" He instantly stopped, concerned._

_ "What's your name?"_

_ "Why?" He tried to look away from her, but she pressed her hand against his cheek._

_ "So I know who to thank God for. Your name, please...please?"_

_ He sighed, and took his time answering. She saw a bunch of emotions pass through his eyes as she waited...everything from consternation to resignation. Finally, he just looked her straight in the eyes and answered, "Eliot Spencer."_

Allyson sighed, put the medallion back around her neck, and looked over at Clyde who was holding his empty food bowl in his mouth. Chuckling, she got up to feed her dog. "Eliot Spencer, Clyde. That's who he was...Eliot Spencer."


	5. Chapter 5

Eliot paced the room, pent up frustration making it so that he couldn't relax. He had pushed the emotions he felt for her into the deepest, farthest corner of his heart and had locked them there. Tonight, they broke free of their restraints and ran amuck in his soul.

He missed her. Crazy as it was, he missed her. Her crooked smile, her big, honest, blue eyes…the way she trusted him. He missed the way her head felt against his shoulder, and how her fingers curled against his. He missed her voice, and how one lock of hair always fell into her eyes.

Eliot punched the punching bag a few times trying to banish those feelings. She wasn't his. Could never be…not just because being around him put her in danger, but because of another. Hugh. Hugh-Moneybags-Kelman, her fiancé…husband by now.

Hugh had been the one to contact Eliot when Allyson went missing. Said he needed a miracle. Offered him three times his going rate to find her and bring her home. If Eliot had known how she would affect his life, he would've run the other direction…

_Eliot gently placed Allyson on the cot in the safe house. She groaned again, and wrapped her arm around her middle. Those ribs were broken, badly, and he needed to get her medical care. The storm outside raged violently, and the road was washed out, precluding that hospital visit. He knew he could triage her as best as he could tonight; MRI's and true medical training would have to wait._

_ "Let this be enough," he breathed, reaching for the medical kit he had hidden earlier._

_ "Allyson, honey, I need you to sit up, okay?" He reached out to and rubbed her shoulder. "I'm going to bind your ribs. It'll hurt a bit, but in the long run, it'll be better than right now."_

_ Allyson looked up at him. "I have had broken ribs before, you know. Stupid horse." She grinned a bit, then grimaced as it stretched her busted lip. "Help me up; we can do this." She raised her arms up, and he moved her into a sitting position. Not a cry, not even a groan this time, just a quickly sucked in breath._

_ "Where the hell did this grit come from?" Eliot wondered. The way that her fiancé had described her, she was a delicate flower, one who wilted beneath the slightest pressure. This woman was definitely not as she seemed._

_ "How'd you come to find me?" She asked, after the shot of morphine, and as he wrapped the strips around her._

_ "Hugh hired me. Told me what happened, and offered me three times my rate. That man must really love you."_

_ She blushed a little at Hugh's name, and then looked up at him quizzically. "What, exactly, do you DO? We'll get back to how you found me in a minute."_

_ He smiled a bit; she was cheeky on morphine. "I'm what you call a Retrieval Specialist. People hire me to collect…items…that they themselves cannot. I've never had a 'package' be a human before, but there's a first time for everything."_

_ "So, Retrieval Specialist…just a fancy name for 'thief'?" She stared up at him, her blue eyes searching his._

_ "Not…really. I don't keep the goods."_

_ "Yeah, but most thieves don't keep the goods they steal, either. They sell them to the highest bidder…or on the black market. You just seem…to do it backwards. Get paid for specific items, and you already know the buyer." She concentrated hard on what she was saying; he could tell it was in effort to fight the pain._

_ Her logic made sense; he had to give that to her. "Yeah, but if you head out there and try to market your trade as 'Professional Thief', you throw yourself into a messy bunch of petty criminals. Believe me; I'm very specific, and very, very good at what I do."_

_ She touched his hand and wrapped her fingers around his thumb. "I know you are. You saved me." Her eyes clouded a bit; she bit her lip and ducked her head. Her fingers tightened on his thumb. "The men who took me…I…" her voice trailed off._

_ Her ribs were done; the rest of triage could wait. This…this could not._

_ Eliot gently placed both hands on her chin, tipping her head up so she could look at him. He stared deep into her eyes, trying to convey the truth. "They will NEVER ever hurt you again. Don't worry about them; they've been dealt with." He had left her attackers stripped and hogtied out in the dark depths of the woods. If they were found within the next 48 hours, they should live...although not too well, as a detailed description of their crimes was attached to them. If they didn't survive, well...the world had a few less scum-bags to contend with._

_ Allyson cocked her head a bit and asked, "How bad?"_

_ Eliot understood her question, "What I had to do, Sweetheart, to make you safe." _

_ She absorbed the truth behind the words, and tears filled her eyes. She leaned forward and rested her head against his shoulder. Her arms came around his back, and he shifted gently to take her weight, wrapping his arms firmly around her, one hand sliding up under her hair to hold her head against him. He felt her tears seep through his shirt, and his heart started cracking. She was silent in her grief, no loud sobs, not even shaking…just silent tears._

_ Minutes passed, and she relaxed even more in his hold. It was then that he realized she wasn't the only one being comforted. Having her in his arms was a calming balm on his soul, and he felt a piece of his heart slide off and crash on the floor. Before he had time to ponder that situation, she lifted her head from his shoulder. "I'm sorry you had to do that. Because of me. No one should have to carry that on their soul…because of me."_

_ He couldn't help it. He knew she belonged to Hugh, that he had no chance of a life with her, that her heart was given to another…yet, he couldn't help himself. He kissed her forehead, gently, and whispered, "Baby, I would do it again. You are worth the consequences."_

His phone ringing brought him out of his reverie. The absolutely annoying ringtone that Hardison had programmed as his own, and that Eliot had no chance of changing. The phone was too complex for a hitter like him, so he just had to deal with the frustration. Glancing at the clock, he noted that it was 1:30AM.

"Yeah?"

"El…I started looking up that girl you asked me about. Found out some things, actually, a lot of things. I would wait until morning, but this one you need to know. It's…it's just, WOW." Hardison's voice belied the fact that he had been drinking orange soda non-stop since they left the bar.

"What?" Eliot practically growled into the phone.

"Dude, she's hidden it really well, but she's an author…took me a while to find it. She writes under a pen name. Man, this cannot be a coincidence…" Hardison's voice trailed off, and this time Eliot did growl.

"What _cannot_ be a coincidence, Alec?" Eliot felt like reaching through the phone and shaking his geeky hacker friend.

"Uh…her pen name's Ellie Spencer."

Eliot hung up the phone and roundhouse kicked the punching bag, knocking it loose from its moorings, and sending it flying across the room.


	6. Chapter 6

Hardison was at his door before dawn, not that he had slept any. The tall, skinny man stared hard at Eliot as he walked in the room. "Alright, man. Who is she?"

"Just, someone," Eliot began to hedge. He didn't know if even he had the answer to that one.

"You gotta give me more than that, bro. This lady, here, her story's pretty hinky. Not hinky in YOUR kind of hinky, but man…she's been through some bad stuff. I found pages and pages of newspaper articles, court documents, even hospital records…not that I ACTUALLY found them, mind you; but power to the geek, baby, and I got it all. There are police reports, too…who is this woman, EL-I-OT?" Hardison drew out the name, trying to prove a point.

"I don't even know if I have an answer to that," Eliot walked over to the window and looked out. "I can tell you that her name's Allyson Cole, well, Kellman now, and at one time she was a 'package' for me to acquire. She just…" he sighed and turned back around. His voice grew gruff, "She's not part of my world anymore, can't be. She's just…that one." He couldn't believe he was talking about this, to Hardison, of all people.

Hardison smiled. He had never seen his friend this flustered before, and although he was enjoying the moment of Eliot's uncertainty, he knew how hard this was on the hitter. Eliot's gift was confidence, his ability to move in any situation with dead calm. This emotional turbulence was new, and this woman was infinitely more than Eliot was letting on.

"Here," Hardison pushed away from the counter he was leaning on and held out the folder he was holding. "I printed out everything I could find; court documents, sworn statements, police reports. I'm sure you know more about this story than anyone else, but there are things in there I don't think you know." He held his friend's gaze for a second longer than normal. "Most importantly, dude…her last name's not Kellman. She never married him."

Hardison, scrawny, hits-like-a-girl, Hardison delivered a blow akin to a sucker punch. Eliot grabbed the folder and turned away, trying to cover the fact that he was having a hard time breathing. He distantly heard his door open and close; Hardison was gone.

He opened the folder and began to read. Half-way through, he began to growl…


	7. Chapter 7

"Can I ask you a question?" The words were accompanied by a latte being set down in front of her.

Allyson lifted her head from the table. She had, just a few minutes before, groaned and laid her head down in frustration. This book wasn't going the way she wanted.

One of the young baristas stood before her. Dark hair, funky blonde highlights, big brown eyes; she stood there expectantly. Allyson smiled, "For a free latte, you can ask anything you want."

The young barista slipped into the chair opposite her. "You're a writer, right? I mean, you're in here almost every day pounding away on that laptop. I just..." she trailed off, embarrassed.

Allyson took pity on her. "You're right. I am a writer." She smiled at the girl. "What's your name? I figure since I'm in here every day, I should know you by now."

"I'm April."

"Hey, April. I'm Allyson Cole," she smiled again.

"Yeah, but that's not your pen name, is it? I hope you don't mind, but the place is small, and you've been quiet while you've taken your calls but we can hear some things, and we weren't eavesdropping, and I promise, I haven't been reading over your shoulder, and I'm not going to tell anyone..." April was speaking so fast that Allyson had a hard time keeping up, "but you're Ellie Spencer, right?" Her big brown eyes pleaded with Allyson, and she blushed a little.

Allyson laughed. "Good deductive reasoning, young lady. Do me a favor, and don't tell anyone; I'm trying to keep a low profile."

"You ARE Ellie Spencer," April whispered, leaning in close. "You're my favorite author, EVER."

"Now, I'm embarrassed," Allyson answered, laughing and blushing.

"No, I just...ugh...I just was curious," April stammered, "can I ask you one more question, please?"

"Honey, you brought me a free latte and you paid me a huge compliment; ask away," Allyson leaned back in her chair.

"How'd you pick your pen name? I mean, Allyson Cole is a long way from Ellie Spencer."

_You had to ask THAT_, Allyson sighed. "It's a long story, April. Let's just say that someone important in my past inspired the name." _Understatement of the year, Ally_, she thought to herself.

"Have you thought about including that person in your stories?"

"Oh, he's in every one," the words were out before she could stop them. _Oh dear Lord, how do I recover from this one?_ She scrambled, "Uh, what I meant was..."

"Don't worry; I won't tell." April stood up and smiled. "He obviously was a great guy to have you name yourself after him...ohmygoodness...I just figured out what you meant. Wow." She turned, cleaned off the table next to them, then turned back around and winked, "Does he have any brothers?"

"I don't know," Allyson literally laughed out loud. "Haven't seen him in a long time, but if I do speak to him, I'll ask."

"Do that please. We're all looking for a good man."

_Ain't that the truth._

_Allyson awoke, her head on Hugh's shoulder. His arm was tight around her, keeping her close, and her fingers were holding on to the mother-of-pearl snaps on his shirt. She sighed, and shifted to snuggle in a bit deeper._

_ The pain hit hard, along with the realization that Hugh would never, ever wear a shirt that snapped._

_ "Breathe, darlin'. You forgot that you're injured." Eliot's voice rumbled from beneath her ear, his arm tightening just a bit. Allyson lifted her head and looked around, breathing as deeply as she could. They were in a pickup, traveling down an old, forgotten road. _

_ "What...uh, I mean," she trailed off, looking up at him._

_ "Morphine's good stuff, huh?" He chuckled. "To answer the questions you're unable to ask, the storm stopped early this morning, you were so doped up on pain meds, you didn't even notice when I carried you to the truck, and we're about an hour away from any town...at least, one with a decent hospital." He took his eyes off the road to give her a once-over. "You decided that my shoulder was the best pillow."_

_ She smiled. "It is...for now." She blushed, but hid it by putting her head back down. "You said hospital."_

_ "You have at least two, if not more, broken ribs, I'm willing to bet a concussion, and although I did my best to take care of the dehydration, I wouldn't rule it out. You also need to be checked for internal injuries, although the fact you're doing so well right now means you probably don't have any, but we can't be too careful."_

_ "I hate hospitals."_

_ "I do, too. But, you're going." His voice was firm._

_ "No, I know, I just...really, truly hate hospitals." Allyson tightened her grip on his shirt. "Bad things happen in hospitals."_

_ Eliot sucked in a breath. "Such as," he led, quietly._

_ "I...I just can't..." her voice faded off as she buried her head in his shoulder again. _

_ "Fair enough, Sweetheart," he took her silence and gave it back to her. "We all have our ghosts." Once again, she found herself comparing him to Hugh. She had done that a few times in the past day, and each time her fiancé came up lacking. In this instance, Hugh wouldn't have accepted her plea to keep silent; he would hound her until he knew every minute detail. That's what made Hugh, Hugh...but she couldn't help appreciating Eliot's quiet confidence; her emotions didn't scare him, and his silent understanding was a balm for her battered soul._

_ "Eliot?"_

_ "Hmmm?" The rumble beneath her ear was quiet, although the arm around her tightened a bit._

_ "When we get back to civilization...what happens then?"_

_ There was a small hitch in his breath; if she hadn't been pressed up against him, she would've missed it. "You'll heal, both physically and emotionally, you'll marry Hugh, live in that large castle on the hill, have babies, and be gloriously happy." The way he said it made it sound as though it was a fairy tale._

_ "I meant you...will I...?"_

_ "No." He interrupted her. One word. That was it._

_ "Eliot, really, please..."_

_ "No, Ally," he had never called her that before, "what I do, who I am...it's too dangerous. You will never need to fear again, especially not because of me." She watched him clench his jaw, his eyes never leaving the road, his knuckles white from where he held the steering wheel._

_ Ally closed her eyes, and drew a deep breath, "I'm not scared," her defiance and stubbornness began to rise up within her._

_ Eliot kissed the top of her head. He'd done that a lot lately, she realized. "I am," he whispered._

_ "You? Scared? Eliot..." she began._

_ "You didn't see yourself when I found you, darlin'. You were huddled in a puddle, covered in your own blood, and terrorized beyond comprehension. How you're able to sit here and tell me, not even 14 hours later, that you're not scared is beyond me. I told you, my life is not a safe one; I live in the shadows, my name is an alibi. It's who I am. It's what I do. It's not a life I want for you; I want you safe. I want you to never, ever go through that again. Hell, if it were up to me, you'd never have a hangnail or stubbed toe again...let alone the hell you just survived. Yes, you're a survivor; you're a scrapper, but by no means am I going to put you in that kind of jeopardy. And, Ally, baby...just by being around me, you're in danger. So, yeah...I'm scared. That one day, you're gonna be in trouble because of me and there won't be one f-ing thing I can do to stop it."_

_ "So, to protect me, you're just going to leave."_

_ "I never promised anything other than getting you out safe and delivering the merchandise." His voice had dropped an octave; it was gravelly and rough...and it sounded like he was convincing himself._

_ Ally pushed herself away from him, sucked in a breath to steel against the pain, and ordered, "Pull over."_

_ Eliot turned to look at her, and realizing she was just going to keep asking, he pulled the truck to the side of the road._

_ "What?" He could be stubborn, too, she just didn't know how much._

_ "You listen to me, Eliot Spencer. There is one reason, and only one reason why I'm not going stark raving mad with fear...and he's the man sitting behind the wheel of this truck. YOU saved me."_

_ "Ally..." he began to interrupt._

_ "No, this is my turn to talk. Eliot, you saved me, you pulled me back. YOU. Yes, Hugh hired you to do what he couldn't, but it was you. I just..." she felt tears sting the back of her eyes, "...look. I just need you to know that you're not the monster you seem to think you are. Don't tell me you don't, I see it in your eyes." She did, too. "You do things you need to do, and I don't even want to know what you had to do to save me; but you aren't that man, Eliot. There's a heart inside of you that is tender; I know; I felt it." She watched the emotions play across his face. Reaching out, she touched his cheek. "You could've just pulled me out of that...dungeon, and let it go. But you didn't. You gave me what I needed, and I'm not talking about the medical care. Thank you."_

_ He stared hard at her for a long time, blue eyes into blue. She held his gaze, never wavering, and kept her hand at his cheek. He finally closed his eyes and reached up to hold her hand against his face. "It doesn't change anything, baby. I can't be the one to put you in danger. I have to walk away; what those men did..." his voice cracked, and he opened his eyes, revealing the turmoil inside of him, "...is nothing compared to what I've seen others do. Do you understand, please?"_

_ She was stuck at the "baby," Hugh never called her any pet names, and it shocked her to realize how much she liked it. That was an emotion for another time; she pulled herself back into the conversation here and now._

_ "Eliot, I'm not asking for...I don't know what I'm asking. I just know that I can't have you walk out of my life..."_

_ "You must. Allyson, there is no other way. Promise me. Marry Hugh and forget about me." _

_ It was her turn to stare, hard. Long minutes passed as they sat on the side of that forgotten highway. He let her see into him, and she could tell it wasn't something he was used to doing. "Okay," she whispered the word, submission filling her, her heart breaking a little bit, "I will let you walk away, and I'll marry Hugh and have babies and live in that mansion as you call it, but I won't...I CAN'T forget you, so don't ask me to do that." She ducked her head into her chest._

_ "Don't look for me, don't search, don't talk about me. I'm a dream, a memory; I have to be, okay?" He pleaded again._

_ "I promise, Eliot. I won't." Tears did fill her eyes this time, slipping over and sliding down her cheek. "Just..." she couldn't find the words, and she looked up at him, "...just, KNOW, okay? I...." She slid closer to him, and he wrapped his arms around her again, settling his chin on her shoulder._

_ "I know," he whispered into her hair, gently tightening his hold on her, careful of her broken ribs. _

Allyson smiled and sipped the now-tepid latte. She could still remember the way his arms felt around her and the comfort from the sound of his heartbeat. She realized she had been staring out the window, hoping for another glimpse of Eliot, searching every face as she was lost in the reminiscence.

She shook her head to clear it and refocused on her computer. The story that needed to be created was not the one she was remembering. That story was hers to carry, not share.


	8. Chapter 8

"Okay, Eliot, to redirect that satellite so we can torrent that MMA fighter thing you like so much, it's pretty simple. You just..." Hardison's droned on, but Eliot wasn't paying attention. His mind was elsewhere, with Allyson, wondering what she was doing, HOW she was doing, trying to find a way to inflict even more pain on those who had hurt her.

"EL-I-OT...you're doing that again," Hardison raised his voice; he knew better than to touch the hitter when he was in that kind of state. No one knew what he would do being shocked out of a reverie. "It's that girl, isn't it? That Allyson, Ellie Spencer chick..."

"Keep your voice down," Eliot snapped back. He looked around Nate's apartment, but everyone else was out, running recon for their next job. Eliot and Hardison's skills were needed at another time, so the two of them were supposed to be gathering intel on their mark via the internet; Hardison had already run that route, so now they were retasking satellites...for fun.

"Dude, no one's here to hear about this girl," Hardison laughed.

"Do you have your comm in?" Eliot growled.

"Oops..."

"Damn it, Hardison!"

He fished in his pocket and found the comm. Putting it to his ear, he heard Nate's voice, "So, who is this Ellie...or is it Allyson? What's going on? Is this the blonde woman from the other night?" Eliot growled, pulled the comm out of his ear and threw it across the room.

"Hey! I worked hard on that!" Hardsion exclaimed, glaring at Eliot.

"Yeah, well, you'll be working harder when I break all your fingers, you punk," Eliot growled back, starting to advance on the hacker. "Come here, son, let's have a chat..."

"Now, now, Eliot, you know I didn't mean to spill the beans about that girl. It was an accident. I'm sorry, man, I really am. Just, you know I need my fingers; they're my most important possession...next to my manly bits and all..."

"Oh, I can take care of those, too..."

"Uh, El...Nate's trying to talk to you."

"Sure he is; you're just trying to distract me..."

"No, really...he is! There, that's his ringtone," Hardison pointed to Eliot's phone which had just started ringing.

Eliot turned, stalked to the table that held the phone, then turned around, "You are one lucky sonofabitch, you know that?"

"Oh, I know..." Hardison breathed a deep breath, then moved himself in a way that he could keep an eye on Eliot...one could never be too careful.

"...do NOT hurt him; we need his skills," Nate's voice came through the cell phone.

"I wasn't going to do too much damage," Eliot grumbled.

"Who is she?" Nate asked.

Eliot didn't answer.

"Got it." Nate replied. "I'm not going to give you any advice, here..."

"Good."

"...because we all know my track record on this..."

"Yeah, how's Maggie again? Or, how about Sophie?"

"...that was low..."

"It's my business, Nate."

"Just make sure it doesn't interfere with OUR business."

"I'm working on that."

"See that it is so."

"That's IT???" Hardison's voice echoed through the apartment. "Dude, he's still on comms; I can hear everything...how come you get off with a 'See that it is so'?"

"Because, he'll actually DO it," came Nate's reply.

"Oh, I see how it is. Just because I had a little bit of trouble once, you go making a big deal of the situation...for the love, people, can't we just let it be?"

"Hardisonnnnnnnnn," both Nate and Eliot growled.

"Aiight, I feel you. Shuttin' up."

Eliot snapped the phone shut, then stalked out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him.


	9. Chapter 9

_It had been three weeks since he had dropped her off at the hospital. He had put her in a wheelchair at the ER entrance, called for an orderly, kissed her on the forehead, and walked away. A phone call to Hugh, and the money had been transfered into his account. The media had picked up the story, and he had made sure he was not part of it._

_ Today, he stood just out of sight, checking in on her one last time. She was sitting the swing of her back porch, wrapped in a blanket, bare feet pushing the swing, a mug of something hot in her hands. Her bruises were almost all gone, yet he could still see the shadows on her face._

_ What the hell; he had already broken his own rules anyway. Do the job; get paid; walk away. Don't go back...well, he was back._

_ He stepped into her line of view._

_ He watched her eyes widen, and the quick intake of her breath. Then, she smiled. Like the sun breaking free of a cloud, that smile warmed his shadowed heart, and he realized that was why he was standing in her back yard, disobeying his own edicts._

_ She quickly stood up, then regretted it, he could tell from her wince. She walked as fast as she could down the steps and to him, almost as if she was afraid he would disappear if she didn't get to him quick enough. Even moving more slowly because of the pain, it looked as if she was dancing...at least to him._

_ "I thought I'd never see you again," she whispered as she reached his side._

_ He shrugged. "You weren't supposed to."_

_ "Then why did you step into my back yard? Not a very effective evasive maneuver there, Eliot."_

_ He smiled. "I like the snarkiness; where did that come from?"_

_ "It was masked by the pain." She smiled back. "Really, why are you here?" Her voice never rose above a whisper, as if talking would make him vanish._

_ He just smiled. He didn't have an answer._

_ Blue eyes stared into blue. Minutes passed, a dog barked, a car drove down the street._

_ "You can't stay, can you?" She asked._

_ "No. I've stayed too long already." He took her hand, rubbed the scar left from the brand. "This has healed up pretty well..." he clenched his teeth together at the memory of her lying on that floor. "The scar should fade in time," he whispered._

_ "I know," she covered his hand with her own. "How do I begin to thank you?"_

_ "Ally..." he began._

_ "No, Eliot...how? You saved my life, but you lead me back from the fear. I know you were paid by Hugh, but how do __**I**__ thank you?" She stepped a bit closer to him to search his face._

_ "Live. Chase your dreams, and find new ones while you do," he whispered. Blue into blue._

_ "I've got to go," he began to pull away, knowing that if he didn't leave now, he might not have the strength to go at all._

_ "I know," she whispered, holding tighter to his hand. "Wait." She stepped in. Stared hard. "You really are a good man, Eliot Spencer." She reached up, pulled his head down to hers, and gently kissed him. It rocked him on his heels._

Still did.


	10. Chapter 10

I should be grading. I really, REALLY should. Grades are due tomorrow, I have 20 essays left to read (groan!), and it's getting late in my area of the world (yep, I teach. English, at that...hence the absolute, almost OCD-like NEED to make sure I have proper grammar/spelling in this story). Instead, I'm editing/pounding out this latest chapter. My boss will not thank me for this tomorrow; nor will I after spending a late night reading junior-high level written essays...oh, and doing the math that is needed to compute the grades for my darling punks. Have I talked anyone out of being a teacher? No? I hope not...it rocks...best job ever. At least, I keep telling myself that...(is it June yet??)

* * *

Allyson sifted through the mail at her mailbox. Bills, junk, a letter from Hugh's lawyer. She stifled a groan, and ripped it open as she climbed the stairs. Sure enough…it was another plea for contact. Over her dead body. Well, that had almost been arranged, but she wasn't about to let him have another chance.

Opening the door to her apartment, she took comfort in the solid, large size of Clyde, who had been waiting at the entrance. She smiled, and squatted down to receive his welcome – a rather sloppy doggie kiss.

"You're a good mate, buddy," she whispered. "Thanks for being here and guarding this place." She had purposefully had Clyde trained; he appeared to have more love than smarts in his brain, but he really one incredibly smart guard dog. Although she wasn't afraid anymore, one could not be too careful, and having Clyde around always gave her a feeling of safety. Plus, his heart really was bigger than his brain, so although he was able to protect her, he was just a big comfort as well.

"Run?" she asked and then laughed out loud at his wriggling response and yelp. He thundered to the door, pulled the leash off the hook, and sat down expectantly. His tail wagged furiously as he waited, and his look to her spoke volumes… "Are you ready YET? Don't tease…"

"Five minutes," she promised and then laughed again. _As if he can tell time…_

As she ran, the medallion worked its way out of her shirt and began to swing in time with her steps.

_The box was nondescript. Just her name and address, no return posted. Brown paper packaging, tape._

_ She carried it inside and opened the wrapping. A white box, inside was a letter:_

_ "Allyson,_

_ St. Nicholas is the patron saint of thieves. Since I'm not a thief, I don't need it. But, when I saw it the other day, I thought of you…and that discussion about Retrieval Specialist versus thief._

_ I'm not giving it to you to make you think of me. Or, to make you remember me. I meant what I said when I asked you to forget me. But, you are stronger than you think. This horrific time has touched your life, left scars on your body. DO NOT let them be left on your soul. If this necklace gives you any comfort, then let it. _

_ Live your life. Dream your dreams; they're beautiful and amazing because they come from you. Because you're beautiful and amazing._

_ I won't forget you."_

_ No name, not that she needed one. _

_ She held the small medallion in her hand and closed her eyes. She had acted as though that kiss she gave him was one of gratitude, but it was so much more than that. She had felt it to her toes, and when she closed her eyes at night, she swore she could hear his voice telling her not to be afraid; that she was safe._

_ "Allyson, what's that?" Hugh's voice interrupted her reverie._

_ "Oh, nothing," she hedged, smiling at him and leaning up to kiss him on the cheek._

_ "Really, what is it?" He reached for it, but she turned quickly, dodging the outreached hand._

_She quickly stuffed Eliot's note in her back pocket. "Just a necklace," she answered. "Nothing special." Lying through her teeth was easier than she thought. _

"_Did you just get it?" Hugh continued, never one to let something go._

"_Yeah, it just came in the mail. Let me put this away, and then we can go to dinner." She turned to smile at him, and caught a look she had never seen before. It unsettled her; she had never seen that kind of anger in him. He quickly veiled it, but she was a bit skeptical._

"_Can I see it? Where'd it come from?" He stepped in front of her, effectively blocking her path._

_She held the box out to him. "It's nothing, really. Just a necklace that was my mother's." _

"_I thought you already inherited all her jewelry," he commented as he opened the box. "It's not very pretty, is it?"_

"_It's Saint Nicholas; it's not supposed to be pretty," she commented. Then, spinning the tale a bit more, and easily at that, she added, "My aunt had it in her jewelry box; she just found it and sent it to me." _

"_That was too easy," she thought to herself. "When did I become such a good liar?"_

"_But, your mom wasn't Catholic." Hugh frowned. "How come she had this?"_

"_I don't know." She stared him in the eyes. "You know what? I'm hungry. Let's go." She took the box back from him, pulled the necklace out and put it on. _

"_You're going to wear it?" he asked, incredulously._

"_I miss her," was all she answered, although in her head she had changed the word to "him."_


	11. Chapter 11

He was sitting in his pickup in front of her apartment. Sitting, staring. Clenched fists on the steering wheel. Three years is a long time. _This is stupid, Spencer_, he thought to himself. _She's moved on; has a new life. It's just coincidence that she's in Boston.  
_

_I know that,_ he argued back to himself. _I just need to figure this out._

_Sitting here is going to help you figure it out, Blockhead?_ He smiled deprecatingly to himself. Obviously, self-talk was something he was pretty good at.

_It's just as good a place as any…_

_ And, you're not just sitting here in hopes that she might come by, and you can see her again…_

_Shut up._

His cell chimed. Hardison. Again. The hacker hadn't let him have a moment's silence since he left Nate's apartment.

Growling, he snatched his phone. 25 texts and emails. Seriously? He scrolled to the last email, intent on deleting it, when the words caught his eye.

"Dude, I got _PARKER'S _alias jury duty. I'm that good. I can bury you and this Allyson chick. She's done a good enough job already on her own; only someone as good as me could've found it. I can make her invisible to everyone else. GO GET THIS OUT OF YOUR SYSTEM. We need our hitter back, full force."

He stared at his phone for long minutes. Making up his mind, he swung open the truck door and stalked to her apartment steps.


	12. Chapter 12

I'm a perfectionist; it's a habit I'm really trying to break. I found some mistakes (minor, but they bugged me), so I fixed them...haven't changed anything important, just a punctuation mark here and a spelling error there... :o)

Allyson pulled up short. Eliot was standing on her front step, hands in his back pockets. He looked...insecure. Her heart thudded a bit in her chest as she crossed the street and walked up the steps, but she knew it wasn't because of the vigorous run she had just completed.

"Hi," she whispered.

"Hi back," he smiled gently. He stepped closer.

She stared at him, memorizing his face. A few new wrinkles, a new scar above his right eye. His eyes seemed...lighter, somehow. As if the weight he always carried had been alleviated a bit.

The cold began to seep in. "Come inside?" she asked, realizing how she must look. Sweaty, windblown, disheveled.

He smiled and nodded.

Clyde's tail wagged vigorously as he thundered up the stairs. Stifling a smile, she headed in, feeling Eliot's presence behind her.

Upon entering the apartment, she turned. "Make yourself at home. I just need a few minutes." Clyde wriggled his way up to Eliot, his tail wagging his whole body. "This is Clyde, by the way. My best bud."

Eliot hunkered down to receive the dog's greeting. "Good boy," he whispered. Looking up at her, he winked, "I think he has a crush on you."

She laughed and turned away. "That's nothing," she thought. "You should see the size of the one I have on you."

In the bedroom she dashed about, changing clothes, washing her face, combing her hair. Looking in the mirror, she muttered, "Not exactly how you envisioned yourself when you saw him again...ugh...oh well. At least you look better than you did the first time he saw you." Tugging at the hem of her sweater, she opened the door and walked down the hall.

Eliot was standing at the window, Clyde leaning against his side, his hand resting on the large dog's head. If the man could be at peace, he looked it.

"I think I may have to share his affections," she laughed as she walked into the room. Eliot smiled slightly, but when he turned to look at her, his face was serious.

He walked to her, took her left hand in his and stared at the scar on her wrist. His touch sent tingles up her arm. His thumb rubbed the scar gently. "Talk to me," gruff and low, he spoke as he raised his eyes back to hers. Blue peered deep into blue. Again. As if time hadn't passed at all.

"About what?" She was confused. What was he doing here? Why? Why now? Questions bounced around in her brain.

Never letting go of her wrist, he reached with his other hand to his back pocket and pulled out the rolled-up file he had shoved there. Funny, how she hadn't even noticed it until now. "This. Tell me." He handed her the dossier Hardison had prepared.

Allyson flipped through the papers, surprise, frustration, anger…all of those swimming in her. "Eliot, what? How…?"

"It's what I do, Sweetheart. Did you honestly expect me to not find all this stuff?" He had been expecting this reaction. He knew how important her privacy was.

"But…these are sealed records. Police reports. Damn it, even pictures of me talking with my lawyer. Eliot…what the hell?" She had no other words, and inwardly she cringed. She was a best-selling author, and this man had reduced her to profanity.

"Ally, please. What happened?" He stepped closer, took the dossier from her, and then rested his hands on her shoulders. He squeezed, then tipped her jaw up so she'd look him in the eye again. "I need to know. From you."

She sighed. _Did you honestly expect him to do anything other than this? Tell the truth to yourself; you're glad he knows. Face it._ Gazing deep into his eyes, she nodded. "Okay, but I need to tell it. Me. No interruptions."

He nodded, then grinned crookedly. "I'll do my best. No promises." He moved his hands back to her shoulders. "Talk."

"No. You, there …" she pointed to the couch. "Me, here." She stayed rooted across the room. He obediently moved to sit on the couch, but looked at her quizzically. She sighed again. "When you're this close to me, I lose my concentration," she admitted, her cheeks beginning to flame. "And, well…when you touch me, I can't think. It's that simple. If you want the story, we need at least five feet between us."

His chuckle was low and quiet, but it rippled through the room.

"Shut up, Eliot."

"Oh, Sweetheart. Don't even get me started," but he took the seat he was ordered to take. There was a new twinkle in his eyes, though. Once he was settled, he looked at her. "Talk."

She sighed, and thought for a few minutes. How to start this? Climbing on the window seat, she pulled her legs up under her and rested back against the cool glass.

"After you left, for good that time," she paused and smiled at him. He grinned back. "…Hugh became controlling. Smothering. It was like he had this crazed need for me to need him. One day, I came home from the store to find that he had moved all my stuff into the 'mansion' so he could keep an 'eye on me'," she stopped to chuckle. "I put up one hell of a fight with that one, but I lost. Still, I made him move me into a spare bedroom; I needed time and space to process, to heal on the inside. It was like he couldn't give me that. I wasn't pushing him away; I just needed time to think. His smothering drove me crazy, to the point that I would take off for hours. I felt like a rebellious teenager who was running away from home. When I would come back, though, he was like a caged animal. He was pacing and stuttering; he was so angry at me. It was really weird, El. When I tried to communicate what I needed, space…time alone…whatever it was, he would tell me I was wrong. That he knew what was going to help me the most.

"I got myself into counseling. Figured it was the best step for me, considering what I had gone though, and I figured I needed help in how to deal with Hugh's issues regarding the situation. Hugh would cancel my appointments. After a few of my disappearing escapades, he even went so far as to make sure the security guards at the 'mansion' wouldn't let me leave. I was trapped. A prisoner. It was worse than when I had been grabbed; only what was killing me this time was this smothering control." She looked at him, cracked a smile. "Your gift just about drove him over the edge. I told him it had been my mom's. She had died a few years before, and I told him that my aunt found it in her jewelry box and sent it to me. He knew mom wasn't Catholic, so it bothered him to no end."

"You do realize you're playing with it right now, right?" He asked, nodding in her general direction.

Sure enough, she was fiddling with it. "I always seem to. Can't help it. I gave up trying to stop a while ago," Allyson smiled crookedly.

He smiled, pleased. The whole time she had been talking, he had been taking inventory. Her eyes were bright, her smile quick. She held her head up high, and her gaze never wavered. She seemed stronger now than before, and she had shocked him with her strength three years ago. Even so, it was taking everything in him to keep from crossing the distance and pulling her to him, just to make sure she was really as okay as she seemed.

Ally saw the intensity in his eyes change, and her voice faltered a bit. She cocked her head to the side and shot him a confused look.

"Sorry," he whispered. "Keep going." _What the hell are you doing? Keep it together, _he reprimanded himself.

She sucked in another breath. "I got mad. I remember thinking, 'This is my life, damn it!' I wanted it back. I wanted to feel free to go outside the boundaries of Hugh's life; I wanted to live. To dream those dreams you told me to…and to chase after them. To build that beautiful life, with or without Hugh. That's what stopped me. The moment I realized that my beautiful life, that dream, may not involve the man I had agreed to marry." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I'm so glad I had gotten to that point when I found it."

Eliot leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "Found what, baby?"

She looked up and smiled. "You called me that, you know...you're the first one to do so. It shocked me how much I liked it."

"Called you what?"

"Baby." She crawled off the window seat and sat on the coffee table in front of him. Taking his hands in her own, she stared hard. "Before I go on, I need you to know that I'm really okay. My world was rocked for a while, and I still have my days when the scars smart a bit, but they aren't as deep in my soul as they probably should've been." She squeezed his hands. "A wise man showed me the way back…" her words were cut off as he leaned forward and pulled her into his arms.

They were strong and tight around her, and before she could catch her breath, her head was on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. It had the same effect on her now as it had then; it was as if her world, which had been a bit left-of-center and she didn't even realize it, was suddenly put back on its axis.

He pulled her onto the couch with him, his hand moving, just as she remembered it to do, to the nape of her neck, holding her against him. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and tightened his hold on her. "Baby," she felt him smile and heard it in his voice, "I know there's more to this story, and we'll get back to it. I just need to…" he broke off. "I, Ally…"

"Shhh, Eliot. I know," she whispered, wrapping her arms around him and settling in for a few moments. "I missed you, too."


	13. Chapter 13

Eliot was aware of the time passing as he held Allyson, but couldn't find it in him to care. Her head was nestled against his shoulder, her hand curled against his chest. He had shifted to lean against the arm of the couch, stretched along the length of it, Allyson curled against him. He had matched his breathing with hers, her slow deep breaths. After a few more moments, he succumbed, closed his eyes, and for the first time in a long time, let himself drift...

Allyson refused to entertain any of the nagging thoughts that threatened to cram her brain. _What is he doing here? He said it wasn't safe for me to be near him...why? Why now? What has happened; HAS anything happened?_ She forcibly quieted the thoughts as she snuggled closer to him and felt his arms tighten a wee bit more. For now, regardless of the how or why...and even regardless of how long he could stay, she was going to enjoy every moment she was with him. Store the memories in her heart to pull out when he was once again a memory.

How long had passed, he didn't know, which was new for him. Never before had he let his guard down while he was with another person; Allyson was a calming presence. He felt her sigh against him, and he realized that the rest of his heart, the large piece that hadn't crashed to the floor three years ago, was tilting precariously downward and beginning to slide.

Ally lifted up her head to glance around. "What time is it?"

"I don't know," he chuckled and nodded out the window, "dusk? The sun's setting." Ally reached up to push some hair out of his eyes and trailed her thumb down his cheek. "Darlin', I guess you're not the only one whose brain gets addled when we touch," he whispered. He watched her eyes widen a bit as he lowered his head, his mouth a fraction of an inch away from hers.

Before he could even blink, though, a yellow paw landed smoothly in the middle of her back. "Oof CLYDE!" She muttered and twisted around. Eliot burst out laughing at the sight of her dog, food dish in his mouth, sitting by the side of the couch with his paw on Ally, tail wagging.

"A little hungry, boy?" he asked. Clyde's tail only wagged faster.

"I'm on it," Ally stated and climbed out of his arms. "C'mon boy, you're obviously starving to death," she muttered to the dog as she padded into the kitchen, Clyde wriggling alongside her.

Eliot felt oddly bereft with her gone. He watched her move around the kitchen, laughing at her dog's antics, and made up his mind. _Okay, Hardison, you win,_ he thought. Grabbing his phone, he quickly typed a desperate plea.

_Are you absolutely sure you can bury any trace of her? I mean, it'll take a damn good gravedigger and the best forensic pathologist on the planet to even find the grave, but not the body nor the bones, kind of bury?_

Hardison had been waiting for this. He just smiled and hit respond.

_My friend, I already did._

Eliot silently offered up a prayer of thanks for his dorky, geeky, obnoxious, amazing friend, climbed off the couch and followed Ally into the kitchen.

"There's more, isn't there?" he asked.

She turned around and said, "Yes, but you're not going to like it."

"Like it or not, I need to know it." He settled against the counter. "Keep going..."


	14. Chapter 14

Allyson grabbed a beer out of the fridge, handed it to him and then poured herself a glass of wine. "Okay," she sighed. After taking a sip to steel herself, she swung up onto the counter. "When Hugh started cancelling my appointments with the counselor, I started writing again. I needed to get the junk out, so putting it all on paper became cathartic. Turns out, I'm pretty good at it," she smiled and blushed a little, looking down.

"You think?" Eliot asked, pointing at the framed artwork of one of her book covers.

Ally rolled her eyes at him. "One day, I started a story. Used my own experience as fodder, and pretty soon it was writing itself, but my computer decided to die. Crashed or something. Luckily, I had saved everything to a jump drive, so I went in search of a computer I could use until mine was fixed. I knew Hugh had an old laptop somewhere, so I snuck into his home office to find it.

"I found the laptop in the bottom drawer of his desk. I grabbed it and would've just walked out, had the folder not been red," she smiled self-deprecatingly. "Red's my favorite color, so it caught my eye; then, it really caught my attention. It had my name on it." Ally watched Eliot's eyes narrow as he took a long draw from the beer bottle. She knew he knew what was coming; he had read that dossier; it included everything. Still, she worried about his reaction. Not that he would hurt her; she instinctively knew he would kill himself first before harming her, but she worried he would turn that anger in on himself when he heard the truth.

"Inside the folder were pictures of me, in the dungeon before you found me. Lots of them. Notes on the back, in his handwriting…sick, twisted notes. Things like, 'This one's my favorite', and, 'She looks great here; good lighting.'" She shuddered at the memory, her stomach starting to roll a bit. "They were his souvenirs from my kidnapping. To think he would look at them and..." she stopped when she saw his face contort as if in pain and waited until the look subsided. The fire in his eyes, though; that only smoldered hotter.

"I realized that Hugh had been the one to set this up. His own sick, twisted game. Later, the doctors would diagnose him with all kinds of big psychological terms that I can't remember and can barely understand. At that moment, though, all I knew was that he was sick. Crazy. And, I was trapped in that little corner of hell with him."

Eliot's face was pale, his eyes wide, and he was breathing hard. The beer bottle in his hand was in danger of shattering; his grip was that intense. "I'll kill him," he muttered.

Ally slid off the counter to take the bottle from his hand. "Careful, there," she whispered. "He's locked somewhere in that brain of his, Eliot. He's in his own personal hell; killing him would not solve anything, and I'm not about to have THAT be on your soul because of me." Her eyes were steely, her words passionate even though they were quietly spoken. "You have too many battle scars there already," she finished.

He glared at her, icy blue eyes flashing into her dark blue-gray ones, neither one of them backing down. He was still breathing hard, so his next question came out more gruff than normal, "How'd you get out?"

"I bided my time. I knew I needed a plan, resources, proof to lock him up, a way to bury any hint of your involvement in it, and protection until I could make it happen," she started.

"How long?" he interrupted.

"Too long," she whispered.

"Baby, tell me. How long?" Gritted teeth, growling.

"Four and a half months," she answered.

"Did he...?" He couldn't even get the question out, and his vision blurred at the thought.

"No. Never. I never let him, but it's more than that. At first he was the loving fiancé, but after a while, he never touched me unless he could see one of my scars. Then he was became affectionate, but in a sickeningly sweet way. Like when you've had too much cotton candy at the fair. It turned my stomach, but I played along until I could get out."

He suddenly swung away from her, stalked to the window in her living room and leaned his forehead against it.

This was not what she had expected to happen. The anger? Yes. The desire to inflict intense pain on her ex-fiancé? Definitely. Quiet turmoil? No.

She followed him to the window, reached out a hand, and slid it up his arm to his shoulder. "Eliot?"

He turned so quickly, she didn't have time to prepare herself, and she lost her footing. His arms came around her, keeping her upright and pulling her hard against him. "Don't you see, Ally? I left you with him," his voice cracked, and he buried his face against her neck. "I left you there. With that...argh. I knew something was hinky, I knew in my gut that...oh, dear God, what did I do to you?"

Ally pulled back, reached up and grabbed his face with both hands. "What did you do? You rescued me," she started.

"Only to leave you with the worst monster of all," he ground out through clenched teeth.

"Eliot, shut up." That got his attention. "You want to know, really know, what you did? You showed me I was worth fighting for. You showed me, through your actions, that real love protects those in its life, and that it sacrifices its wants and desires for their best. You were only with me a few hours, but those hours impacted me the most. Hugh didn't love me, could never love me. You showed me that, and even though you weren't there with me, you gave me the strength to fight for me...for my life..." Her words cut off when his mouth pressed against hers, searing her to the core. His arms were tight, his breathing ragged, belying his anger and frustration, but his mouth was gentle. Tender. He pulled slightly on her lower lip, deepening the kiss, letting his mouth and arms tell her what he couldn't put into words. One of his hands slid up to the back of her head, just as she loved it to do, to rest at the base of her skull, his thumb gently rubbing behind her ear.

Allyson lost herself in it. She leaned into Eliot, letting him take her weight, wrapped her arms around his back, and held tight. She drank in his smell, the way his muscles bunched under her fingertips as they splayed along his back, the way his mouth moved against hers. She didn't want it to end, and she let out a tiny sound of frustration when he broke the kiss to lean his forehead against hers.

"Mnagggh," Ally managed, trying to clear her head. She had something important to tell him; she just could not remember what it was.

Eliot only smiled and rubbed his thumb across her cheek.

"Eliot," Ally literally sucked in a breath, hoping it would clear her head.

"Ally," he practically growled, low, deep, guttural.

_Oh, dear Lord, that voice could melt stone,_ she thought. Shaking away the fuzziness that only he could bring, she started in again, "Eliot," deep breath, "this wasn't your fault. Neither of us knew the depths of his deranged soul; you can't carry this one."

Eliot refused to break contact with her; he couldn't let her go, and he damn sure couldn't let this go. "I hear what you're saying, Sweetheart, but that's not how I work. It's not who I am. I don't rescue people to leave them in their own private Hell."

Allyson pulled back as far as he would allow, and smacked his chest. "Eliot! This isn't your fault! It's his. For a while, I thought I was partially to blame; I mean, I was going to marry the guy, I should've seen _something_, known something was up, that he wasn't _right_. The truth is this: the only people responsible for this are the man who planned it and the men who carried it out. You and I both were suckered into being pawns in his sick delusion." Her vehemence in this little speech shocked both her and him. "You hear me on this, now: YOU are the only reason I was able to survive. I will say it, and say it, and say it until you hear me and believe me. YOU…SAVED…ME." She reached up and pulled his head back to hers, kissing him, trying to convey the truth through her touch. "To believe anything else is to carry around a lie," she whispered against his lips, "and then, he wins. Even if it's just that small victory, he still wins. Don't let him."

Eliot felt the fight drain out of him at her touch and words. He sighed and whispered, "I'm a thick headed mule, Sweetheart. You might have to remind me of this from time to time."

"Time to time?" she asked, looking confused.

"When I remember what you went through and all I'll want to do is rip that bastard into pieces, because that's how I deal with things like this. You'll have to remind me to let it go," he answered.

"Eliot, what do you mean, 'remind you'?" she was still confused, remembering how adamantly he had made her promise to stay clear of him.

This was his turn to look confused. "Remind me? As in, tell me again and again and again..?" How she, an author, could not know the meaning of the word was baffling to him.

"Again and again?" she still was confused.

"What are you asking, Sweetheart?" Forgoing any pretense, he figured it was easier to go straight to the core of the matter.

"How long are you staying?" Blunt. To the point.

"How long do you want me to stay?" Confusion. Hurt beginning to seep in.

_Forever, just don't let go of me, EVER_, her heart screamed. "You're the one who told me, three years ago, that being around you wasn't safe. For my own good, regardless of how much I wanted you, needed you to be there, I had to be apart from you. That what I had been through was nothing compared to what you had seen other men do, so you walked out of my life. Remember that? To keep me safe, you left, taking my heart with you. Why do you think I called myself 'Ellie Spencer'? It was so I could have some connection, however tiny, to you." She ducked her head to hide the tears brought on by the memory. There had been enough recollected pain today; he didn't need to see what his leaving had done to her.

The hurt and confusion fled just as quickly as they had descended. He smiled slightly and kissed her gently, "That was before you waltzed into Boston. Before I knew how well you had buried any connection you had to me. Mostly, though, that was before Hardison."

"What's a Hardison?" The dizziness from his touch was beginning to affect her again.

"I promise; I'll tell you all about him later. Just know that we're safe, and I'm not going anywhere."

She wrapped her arms around him tighter, lifted her face back up to his to kiss him again, and whispered, "GOOD."


End file.
